


Flannel and Satin

by wtfoctagon



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/F, all cleaned up and eager to turn her life around, and quistis? she's gay, and starts working at balamb garden as a combat instructor, anyway I've been wanting to write a postgame quifuu for about... god eight years now??, fujin is pardoned for her war crimes during the second sorceress war, fujin starts re-training quistis in hand to hand combat bc she's gotten a little rusty, here it finally is folks, some quistis/squall brotp stuff here because i love the sibling dynamic between all of them...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfoctagon/pseuds/wtfoctagon
Summary: Quistis sighs as she looks down at her coffee before taking a small sip. Her crush on the new combat instructor is getting a little unmanageable.“Are you buying me a coffee because you feel bad about punching me in the face today?” she asks. “You don’t have to. It was my fault for not ducking even when you were telegraphing it for me pretty hard.”She’s still kind of embarrassed about it, to be honest. She was doing an okay job of fending off Fujin’s strikes until she saw one side of Fujin’s shirt slip off her shoulder a little; her mouth went dry and she froze so bad that she didn’t even register that she’d been hit until she was already on the sparring mat.Fujin rolls her eye. “Negative.”





	1. "it's so beautiful here," she says

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! so i know there's only like two other people in the fandom right now but i've been holding onto this otp for LITERAL YEARS and i finally wrote something about it, and here it is! 
> 
> The two of them finished the game still a little bit... unfulfilled, or isolated, in my opinion, so I'm a huge sucker for them finding each other postgame and confiding in each other while teaching each other to be more at peace with themselves. Honestly I just love them both and I'm happy I could churn out a work about them that I was happy enough to post, after struggling to put my feelings about it to words in a satisfactory way. Eight years later, here I finally am! I hope you enjoy!!

The early morning air is brisk in the way that Quistis loves: crisp instead of brittle, it rushes into her lungs and cools her from the inside out even as the sun warms her skin. There’s something about the way it’s the perfect temperature with only her loose gym shirt and sport leggings, something in the contrast of cold breaths and warm sunbeams that’s so… invigorating. Sighing with the renewed liveness of a body basking in a young sunrise, Quistis suddenly realizes that she hasn’t spent this much time in the quad since she graduated seven years ago. 

Not because of any kind of aversion. She really likes the quad, especially when she’s sitting on the benches installed underneath the trees; the soft trickling of the stream that runs throughout all of the Garden campus sounds particularly serene when in harmony with the rustling of leaves. And the view past the wide veranda has only gotten better after the school became mobile, as it spends most of its time gliding over the ocean.

Though, sometimes Quistis misses the long walks she took through campus when the surrounding terrain was still part of the school. It was nice to just wander through the courtyards when things got to be too much, being in motion but not needing to go anywhere specific. After graduation, she hardly had the time to do anything other than get shipped out on missions and study for her instructor’s license, and after she got  _ that, _ she was too obsessed with trying to prove herself as a teacher that she didn’t waste time on anything so unproductive as  _ relaxing. _

She groans and flexes her sore shoulder, trying to focus on the moment and not get overwhelmed by regret. It’s okay if she spent her adolescence running around like headless chicken. She’s only twenty-one going on twenty-two. It’s not too late to learn how to enjoy life. 

“Here.”

Quistis jumps at the coffee cup suddenly thrust into her line of sight, barely biting back a squeak. The hand offering it is impossibly pale, attached to an incredibly toned arm bared by a sleeveless hoodie and accompanied by an impassive stare. She sighs as she accepts the drink.

“You walk  _ so _ quietly,” she complains at Fujin, not for the first time. “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

Fujin shakes her head and grunts as she falls heavily just beside Quistis onto the bench, taking a gulp of her smoothie. 

“What?” Quistis frowns. “I don’t exactly have a cheap coffee order. Come on, how much did it come to?”

Fujin scowls, sitting back and slinging one arm over the back of the bench. “Unnecessary.”

Quistis leans forward, cradling her cup with both hands as she rests her elbows on her knees, head hanging a bit to the side as she stares at her companion. She looks so different out of uniform, so…  _ casual, _ which isn’t a word that Quistis would use to describe Fujin. Her dark blue top is cut in a way that not only shows off the shapely slope of her shoulders into her defined biceps, but the strong panes of her clavicles— the statuesque quality continues up to her carved jawline that always leaves Quistis feeling a little skittish inside whenever she notices. A bit of everything about Fujin’s face makes her feel bubbly inside, honestly, in both the nicely fluffy  _ and  _ inconveniently nervous way. She’s got such pretty eyes— or, well, eye, rather, as the other one is covered by an eyepatch. It flickers once towards Quistis and then away again, the red iris enriched by the shade of the tree into a dark auburn. There’s an elegant hint of a crease on her eyelid that deepens or smooths out depending on her expression, and the angular grace of it is softened by a small pouch of baby fat on the underside that adds a touch of youthfulness. 

Quistis sighs as she looks down at her coffee before taking a small sip. Her crush on the new combat instructor is getting a little unmanageable. 

“Are you buying me a coffee because you feel bad about punching me in the face today?” she asks. “You don’t have to. It was my fault for not ducking even when you were telegraphing it for me pretty hard.”

She’s still kind of embarrassed about it, to be honest. She was doing an okay job of fending off Fujin’s strikes until she saw one side of Fujin’s shirt slip off her shoulder a little; her mouth went dry and she froze so bad that she didn’t even register that she’d been hit until she was already on the sparring mat.

Fujin rolls her eye. “Negative.”

“Then what is it?” Quistis says with a frown. Fujin peers over at her, mouth twists a little unhappily. 

“Need reason?”

“I mean…” Quistis grimaces. “I guess not. It’s just… uncharacteristic for you to do anything on a whim.”

Fujin sips her smoothie and shrugs. “Multifaceted.”

Quistis laughs, swirling her coffee slightly. “Are you now?”

“Disagree?” is the retort, complete with a lazy tilt of the head and a raised brow. Quistis grins and shakes her head. 

“Oh, no, far from it,” she says with a facetious airiness. “You’re one of the  _ most _ multifaceted people I’ve  _ ever  _ met. I didn’t think someone so serious could be so cute.”

She breaks into a guffaw as Fujin starts to cough violently. 

Fujin finishes choking with a scowl and waits for Quistis to settle down as well. 

“Done now?”

She wheezes a final few chortles before dramatically taking in a deep breath. 

“That depends. You’re extraordinarily fun to tease. Besides, you’re still dodging the question.” 

She says it with a grin, but anxiety spikes into her stomach when Fujin lets out a sigh that’s deep enough to dip into genuine annoyance. Fujin puts her drink down on the bench with a huff and reaches into her gym bag and Quistis picks apart every word she’s said to see where she crossed the line, trying to weave together a suitable crochet of apologies as fast as she can.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” she stops as Fujin thrusts another object at her again, this time a small wooden box with gilded edges. “—mean to… what is this?”

Fujin blinks languidly before raising a brow and giving her a bored look, waving the box a little. “Yours.”

“Mine?” Quistis takes the box and sets it on her lap, the expensive and delicate look of it making her probably a touch more cautious than she needs to be. “What is it?”

The redundant question trails off as she unlatches the lid and opens it. In the box, set in a bedding of burgundy velvet, is one of the most exquisite fountain pens she’s had the pleasure of seeing— dark oak swathed in golden vine patterns, with a small blue gem set in the end of the clip. She reaches out to touch it, fingertips hovering just shy of the actual pen. 

“I…” 

She really doesn’t have any idea what to say. Her eyes roam over to the accompanying inkwell and the two extra nibs that are set into the velvet as well, feeling a rush of breath leave her at how the golden lustre glints just a little bit red in the sunlight as if on fire.

“Ah… not… ostentatious, but…” Fujin coughs. “Thought… would prefer classic…”

Her unusually hesitant and rambling words finally key Quistis into the fact that she’s just been gawking silently and probably making Fujin feel not a little awkward. 

“I don’t even want to know what you consider ostentatious,” she breathes, shaking her head and blinking rapidly. “I— this is  _ beautiful.”  _ She turns to Fujin with wide eyes. “Just—  _ why?” _

Fujin nods at the box. “Card.”

Quistis blinks back, only then noticing the card wedged into the inside corner of the lid. She plucks it out, feeling another wave of  _ what-the-fuck _ at the thick card stock. 

_ I know the actual day is Saturday, but unfortunately I’m off campus on an assignment from Friday until the middle of next week. You mentioned losing your favourite pen a while back, so I purchased this while we were in Dollet; I hope it’s to your liking.  _

_ Happy early birthday.  _

Quistis places the card back in the box and very slowly closes it, gingerly pushing the latch shut. She then carefully nestles it in the top of her gym bag beside her before turning and clamping her arms around Fujin.

“HGRK—” Fujin’s hands come up to claw into Quistis’s shoulders, more out of surprise than genuine protest. “WHAT.”

She giggles and squeezes another strangled breath out of Fujin, heart fluttering in her throat. 

“CHOKING,” Fujin wheezes. 

“Oh, crap, sorry—” Quistis lets go but not entirely, her arms still resting loosely on Fujin’s shoulders as she laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m just—”

Happy enough to qualify for a word as sticky sweet as ‘elated’? It’s not just how much she loves the pen; the fact that Fujin remembered something Quistis had mentioned offhandedly, then went out of her way to prepare a present in advance without ever being prompted— it’s so  _ sweet _ and unexpected, and Quistis is buzzing with so much happy energy that she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. She feels so fumbling and clumsy all of a sudden, charged with the want to do something but not knowing what—

She settles on the first impulse that presents itself and takes a hold of Fujin’s face to plant a big, emphatic kiss on her cheek. 

_ “Thank you,”  _ she says, hugging her again but not so tightly this time. “That made me so happy.”

“Just pen,” Fujin says stiffly. “Overdramatic.”

Quistis pulls away to quip back but gets stopped by a laugh— Fujin’s face has bursted into a flush almost as red as her eye that’s resolutely staring away. 

“Aw, did I make you blush?”

She hears a small crunch as the plastic of Fujin’s drink buckles a little in her grasp; Fujin hastily grabs at her gym bag, yanking herself away from Quistis and off the bench. 

“Goodbye,” she squeaks out before fleeing towards the gate. Quistis doesn’t bother to hold in the new set of giggles that bubble up as she watches Fujin panic walk away with her shoulders starting to look a little pink too. 

“See you tomorrow!” 

Fujin walks faster. 

Quistis watches her disappear around the corner, then picks up her box and hugs it once before stashing it away into her bag. She doesn’t trust herself to refrain from  _ actually _ squealing as she holds it— she can’t remember the last time a birthday present made her feel so… cared about. Not that she hasn’t gotten heartfelt gifts from people she loves dearly— but somehow it’s always been books or jewellry and the like, things that anyone would like. This— this feels so personal, so specific to her, picked out by someone really paying attention to her—

God, she’s acting like such an overexcited kid. She breathes in deeply, not quite quelling the grin on her face but still settling her heart rate down a little bit. She needs to get it together and get ready for class, maybe try not to look like such a giddy dork. 

Zipping up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, she snorts to herself as she makes her way inside as well. If someone had told her four years ago— hell, maybe even just a month ago— that not only would she be getting trained by Fujin, of all people, but that it would be her favourite part of the day, she would have laughed her ass off. 

Funny how things end up turning out.

————

It all started, really, when they bumped into each other on the second floor balcony one night. Quistis was angrily nursing a host of injuries that she was far too embarrassed to go to the infirmary for, seeing as they were a result of her getting the absolute shit kicked out of her during a mugging.

Her. Quistis Trepe. One of the highest ranking officers in the elite SeeD force, veteran of the second Sorceress War, and one of the most acclaimed instructors at Balamb Garden, getting  _ mugged.  _ By some common thugs in a Deling City alleyway, just because she was trying to take a shortcut back to the car rental garage after a short shopping trip. 

It wouldn’t have been a problem, usually. It  _ shouldn’t _ have been a problem. But she didn’t have anything junctioned because the policy around using Guardian Forces had gotten a little stricter and a trip into town to pick up stationery was absolutely not grounds to have anyone junctioned, not even her usual companions. 

She’d gotten complacent. Arrogant. Too reliant on her usual superior strength and speed during combat situations, she tried to quickly shut them down, only to find herself in a horribly ungainly brawl when she realized she didn’t really remember any of her basic hand-to-hand training past two-step incapacitations. 

Nothing bad happened, thankfully. She put her assailants through a substantial beating as well, walking away with her wallet and some minor injuries. But asking to rent a car with her busted lip was embarrassing enough; going to Dr. Kadowaki and explaining to her that she’d gotten her ass handed to her by some civilians because she’d gotten too reliant on magic? The thought of it hurt more than her maybe-broken wrist. 

The drive back to where Garden was docked wasn’t too hard, even with her pulled ankle, and it was a fast enough job to patch herself up with the first aid kit in her room. But she was just so fucking— antsy and buzzing with humiliated anger to go to sleep; she ended up taking a walk despite her sore knee because she didn’t really have anything else to do. 

The balcony had been her first choice because it wouldn’t have been the first time she sequestered herself there during a hard night. It was calming; the sounds and smells of the sea would remind her enough of her childhood home by the beach that she would feel a little bit better by association, a little bit safer. It was sort of her comfort spot because people were much more likely to go to the quad if they wanted fresh air, and at two am on a Sunday night she wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone. She did, quite, literally  _ run into _ Fujin— she’d taken her glasses off to rub at a sore spot on her face, her steps a little too angry and fast for her to register the person standing just outside the sliding door. 

Quistis will never forget how she felt that night, seeing Fujin again for the first time in four years. She was almost unrecognizable if not for the distinctive eyepatch and pale colouring— no longer a scraggly teenager with unkempt hair and ill-fitting clothes, she was a little taller than Quistis remembered. Her hair was neatly cropped short and swept to the side, no longer hanging over her ratty eyepatch that had been swapped out with a neatly engraved one made of black leather. Her shoulders filled out the jacket of her SeeD uniform well, and her face had become more balanced in the way that faces tend to settle after adolescence; she stood there, holding Quistis by the biceps too keep her from falling back after the impact, red eye open wide in alarm. 

And in that moment, Quistis just felt so selfishly, childishly, irreconcilably angry— there she was, bruised up and beaten by untrained thugs because she’d stagnated over the years, while Fujin stood there in a clean uniform and a new job and looking so much better.  _ Quistis _ was supposed to be the successful, collected one. She was the prodigy, the one who had become an instructor at seventeen years old, while Fujin was one of Seifer’s lackeys who was crude and unrefined and couldn’t even  _ talk _ properly—

The selfish, cruel thought stopped her inner tantrum in its tracks and left her chest burning something awful, a sick taste in her veins as her boiling blood cooled. 

“What happened?” Fujin asked, her voice now a papery soft timbre instead of the gravelly growl it had once been. She looked Quistis over, frowning. “Look like shit.”

And Quistis laughed at that for some reason, even though she felt so deeply embarrassed about her disheveled appearance, because it was just so blunt. It was honest, it wasn’t the cringing white lie tip-toeing anyone else would have done, and behind the rough honesty there was definitely concern there. And wasn’t it just so ridiculous that Fujin’s mildly insulting greeting made her feel the more cared about than she had in the past while? Wasn’t it strange that Fujin, of all people, was offering some kindness as she stood there and thought horrible things about her?

“I’m well aware,” she said. “It’s nothing.”

Fujin frowned harder, her grip on Quistis tightening just the smallest bit.

“Who?”

Quistis blinks.

“What?”

Fujin grimaces. “Assailant. Who?”

And then Quistis realized that she was holding onto Fujin too, by the elbows. 

“N-no one,” she said, pulling her hands away awkwardly and crossing her arms when Fujin let go as well. “Just some assholes in the city.”

Fujin’s eye narrowed as she folded her hands behind her back. “Soldiers?”

“Not exactly.” Quistis swallowed down that initial embarrassment welling up in her throat again, rubbing her arms a little as she regretted not bringing a jacket. 

“Mercenaries.”

“No, I—” she sighed, pressing the spot between her eyebrows with the hand that wasn’t holding her glasses, half in shame and half from a developing headache. “I… got mugged.” She pulled her hand away and gave a sour, sardonic smile. “By a civilian mugger in the city because apparently I’m pathetic and helpless without junctioning a GF.”

The last part came out in an angry hiss so she walked past Fujin to lean on the balcony railing, not trusting herself to not misdirect her frustration. Everything was just so humiliating that night— from the mugging to her inability to keep her emotions in check around a colleague, she felt like some ill-adjusted teenager again. Taking in a deep breath, she slowly pushed her glasses back onto her face, trying to focus on the glittering sea that stretched onto the horizon. It was an unusually bright night, under the full moon, silent save for the sounds of the rushing waves slapping into the hull of Garden below that still didn’t help; try as she might, she couldn’t even smell the sea in the cold breeze that felt like it seeped past her skin and rattled her bones. 

It was kind of startling when she felt a jacket being thrown around her shoulders, since she figured Fujin had simply left at some point in the quiet pause, presumably and reasonably tired of Quistis’s strange and disagreeable behaviour. But when she looked to her side, Fujin came to lean on the railing next to her—

Quistis still thinks that was the exact moment that her crush on Fujin started. It was so strangely intimate, the two of them quarrelling lightly as if they were old friends, without even having said hello after four years. She was standing there, with Fujin’s jacket wrapped around her frame, while Fujin herself leaned on the railing in just her plain white dress shirt and looked out into the moonlit horizon like some sort of prince in a bad romance novella; with her glasses on, Quistis was struck by how  _ handsome _ Fujin had become in the years since. It wasn’t just the chiseled jawline and prominent cheekbones, or the hint of pale clavicles she could see under her open collar. There was just something so much more peaceful about her; before, her face was usually frozen in an empty, emotionless stare, most often about to crumple into a snarl at any given moment. Looking at her then, Quistis felt like… like her facial features weren’t so much frozen as resting in stillness, like there was some new sereneness in the lines of her impassive expression; and when she looked over at Quistis, the corner of her lips creased into the smallest, ever so slightly dimpled suggestion of a smile. 

Quistis smiles at the memory, gathering up her papers and shutting off her office computer for the day. One thing led to another after that, and Fujin ended up offering to re-teach her some of the basics of hand-to-hand, which she gratefully accepted. Which, in turn, led to what were… some of the best mornings Quistis has had in recent memory, if not ever. These days she’s actually  _ excited _ to wake up. 

She pulls out her planner before closing up her briefcase, slinging the strap over her shoulder as she rounds her desk and walks across the room to the door with a sigh. She’ll be getting even busier for the next while, as midterms season approaches. There are about three full exams she needs to make, not to mention the time she’ll spend marking all of the results afterwards; just the thought of it gives her a headache, and she starts ticking off boxes to try and space our her workload when she collides with a solid leather jacket.

“Oh, excuse me, I—” Quistis stops as the jacket turns to reveal one very haggard looking Squall Leonhart in it. “Squall?”

He blinks, three times, relatively slowly, as if his eyes are weighed down by the bags under his eyes. 

“Quistis,” he says simply, staring at her in a way that’s seriously starting to creep her out. “Happy birthday.”

She squints at him, trying to look for the telltale ashy tint to his skin that accompanies most magically inflicted status ailments. 

“Squall,” she says hesitantly, pressing her planner shut and folding it to her chest. “My birthday was yesterday.”

“Ah. Dammit,” he mumbles. “Is it past midnight already?”

She stares. 

“It’s five in the afternoon.”

He frowns, his hand limply going for his pocket to pull out his phone. The light from the screen sits on his face when he checks it, mouth falling open a little in dismay.

“Oh.”

“Hey,” she murmurs, putting a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

He looks up at her, his frown falling into a flat stare.

“I thought I was,” he sighs, pocketing his phone and leaving his hand in there too. “But apparently I haven’t slept in the past forty-five hours.”

She presses her lips together in chagrin and nods. “Yeah. That’s pretty bad,” she says, patting his arm lightly. “Please tell me you’re on your way back to your room.”

“Can’t. I still have to file paperwork for a rescue mission from last week. And then for the undercover op in Palumpolum. And then health insurance claims for the agents who were in the bombing.”

“We had another bombing?” Quistis yelps.

“No, not—” he trips on his tongue, wiping his hand down his face. “Not a new one. The one in Timber. Last month, no one died.”

“Oh, thank god,” she says, holding a hand to her chest for a moment. “I thought we dealt with that.” She shakes her head. “How are you so backed up on paperwork?”

“A hard drive in the mainframe crashed. Had to format it. Lost a month’s worth of papertrail.”

He sounds so  _ dead. _ He  _ looks _ so dead, which is saying a lot because his normal emotional capacity is about as animated as a turtle. 

“Yikes,” she hisses sympathetically. “Have you just been filing it on your own for the past while?”

“Nida was helping. I sent him home when he passed out at the desk. Just me and Xu.” He blinks a few times, then snaps his head up as if suddenly remembering something. “Anyway. I should get back to work. I forgot what I came out here for.”

“No—” she grabs him by the arm as he tries to bumble past her. “The only place you’re going is home. You and Xu both.”

“But—”

“I’ll take over the filing for a while. I’m twice as fast as you, anyway. You can come back and overwork yourself to your heart’s content, but  _ after _ you’ve gotten at least ten hours of sleep, understood?”

It’s a little funny, because she hasn’t used her teacher voice on Squall in a while, seeing as he’s outranked her for a few years now; he’s grown unexpectedly well as a leader so she didn’t really need to, anyway. He kind of stares at her blankly, as if considering arguing back, but she raises her brows as soon as he opens his mouth so he just sighs and nods. 

“Understood.”

“Good. Now go. Make sure to eat something too when you can, alright?”

“Alright,” he mumbles, “I will. Thanks, Sis.”

Quistis blinks, watching his eyes gradually widen as he registers what just came out of his mouth. 

_ “Wow,”  _ she chortles, a slow laugh building up in her throat. “Four years  _ after _ I stop trying to fill in for Ellone, I finally get to be called that?”

“I—” he scowls, taking a step back. “I didn’t—”

She cackles and hops up a little to hook an arm around his neck and pull him down into a headlock, ruffling his hair mercilessly. 

“You little goober!” she teases as he struggles.

“Augh!” He pulls himself free, snapping upright and taking several steps back. “What the hell!”

“Aw, sorry, Squallie,” she says, crossing her arms and pouting dramatically. “I didn’t mean to make you mad. I’m just touched that you called me that. It was really sweet.”

He scowls up a storm, crossing his arms and looking away.

“What—”

“—ever,” she says, at the exact same time and with the exact same tone as him. She starts laughing again and he turns on his heel to walk away. 

“Tell your girlfriend to give me back my skirt!” she calls after him. “I lent it to her like, two months ago!”

He makes a kind of  _ yeah-yeah-screw-off _ wave with his hand without even looking over his shoulder. She grins and starts heading towards the main archive room, re-opening her planner to mark down her evening. 

A part of her is surprised she’s not angry with him. They’ve known each other almost their entire lives, after all, and normally she’d be pretty upset about someone who is essentially her foster brother just completely forgetting about her birthday, but. Somehow it’s just easy to forgive him. She’s sure he would probably put much more effort into it if he had any effort to give; besides, it’s not like there’s much anyone can do to top the birthday gift she’d already been given. 

Her phone buzzes just as she steps into the archive room.

_ [My assignment finished earlier than expected. We’re shuttling in tonight. Are you free to continue training tomorrow morning?] _


	2. and i never thought I would find her here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gay angst

Quistis isn’t quite sure how she manages to do it—between feeling her arms bruise from the force of the blows she only just manages to parry and trying to land a hit in the split-second gaps after a punch, she’s not expecting to be able to get past the much more skilled defense. Still, somehow, a startled grunt pops out of her partner’s mouth as foot connects with face and Fujin smacks onto the sparring mat. 

Quistis blinks.

“Oh fuck,” she says, hands covering her mouth for a moment before she rushes to kneel by Fujin. “Shit, Fu, I’m so sorry!”  

Fujin grunts, flipping over and sitting up. 

“Good form,” she rasps, rubbing her jaw. Quistis sits there with her hands hovering around the impact area, worried and unsure.

“I swear to god I didn’t mean to hit that hard— I didn’t even think I’d get through you—”

“Sparring,” Fujin grumbles, “happens.”

“Still— let me look at that,” Quistis says as she reaches hesitantly for the nascent bruise blooming from her jaw to the corner of her lips. 

“Fine,” Fujin huffs, grouchy as ever as she swats lightly at Quistis’s wrists. “Doesn’t hurt.”

Quistis rolls her eyes. “Just because it doesn’t hurt now doesn’t mean it’s not going to be sore as hell later. You know that better than anyone. Come on,” she says, cradling Fujin’s face. She slides one hand around the back of Fujin’s neck on the unbruised side, pressing her thumb just underneath her chin to tilt her head up and a bit to the side so she can get a better look. 

Fujin scowls but lets her do it— Quistis takes the fact that she hasn’t already been shoved away as permission and closes her eyes, focusing on images in her head to tap into the magic she needs: a cottony snowdrop landing on worn blue mittens, Matron’s warm kiss on her forehead every night to wish her sweet dreams, the airy summer joy of six children lighting fireworks on the beach—

(Fujin under a full moon, silvery lavender hair and snow quartz skin. The ephemeral softness of exchanging smiles that aren’t quite there, the strange intimacy of an accidental meeting on a balcony under a quiet night.)

Quistis opens her eyes; the air around her skin starts to blow forward like wind, leaving glowing white streaks that swirl around Fujin’s face before dissipating with the bruise. 

“There,” she says, letting her hands fall away and sitting back in satisfaction. “Good as new.”

Fujin reaches up to touch it, furrowing her brows and massaging her thumb into her jaw to test for tender spots. 

“Blue magic?” she asks, looking a little perplexed. Quistis nods. 

“Yeah. I’ve been getting better at tapping into it even when I’m not on the verge of death,” she says with a bit of a laugh, but Fujin just grunts quietly. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles, and Quistis can’t stop herself from smiling at the way she says it so petulantly, like a pouting cat. 

“Sorry again,” she says, picking at her sport leggings a little nervously. Fujin shakes her head. 

“Supposed to happen.” 

“I mean, I guess so but still,” Quistis tries to insist as Fujin rises to her feet and stretches, the bottom of her sleeveless hoodie riding up past her navel. “It’s not like I want to…”

Suddenly she has a great view of sculpted, powerful abs that still look like soft valleys of freshly fallen snow and her words just disintegrate in her slightly open mouth. She probably looks pathetic, just kneeling there and practically drooling as Fujin walks off the sparring mat towards her gym bag— the way that the muscle definition of Fujin’s arms tightens just the slightest bit as she tugs her water bottle open leaves Quistis with a panic attack in her throat.

Fujin looks over inquisitively when she starts coughing a little bit. She gives her best  _ I’m-fine _ smile, though it’s probably not even a little bit convincing; still, Fujin only squints at her for a second before going back to what she’s doing, running a hand through her hair before tugging off her gloves and packing them into her bag—

Wait.

“Where are you going?” Quistis asks, pushing herself up onto her feet and walking towards their small pile of belongings just off the mat. 

Fujin grunts, jerking her chin at something behind her. “Treppies.”

Quistis frowns. “Already?” she asks, dismayed as she looks to see a group of students stopped in the middle of unpacking themselves by the treadmills. They giggle and whisper to themselves, and she hears a muted squeak from across the gym when one of them notices her looking and waves frantically.

Goddammit. Quistis plasters on her best smile as she waves back. She’d been really, really,  _ really _ hoping her fan club’s enthusiasm would die out when Headmaster Cid disbanded them a few years ago. 

Don’t get her wrong, she’s grateful and flattered— they’re very sweet kids, after all, and it’s fairly adorable when they’re not getting into creepy stuff like selling paraphernalia related to her as “collector’s items.”

(The final straw for Cid was when one of them was caught auctioning off her old cadet uniform. She doesn’t even want to know how they got their hands on that.)

For a long time, she didn’t really do anything about it.  When it first started up, she’d been insecure enough to indulge them because it made her feel important and popular: an intoxicating mixture for a lonely, friendless teenager. Then she grew up a bit, and, well. It’s not  _ annoying,  _ per se, but it’s definitely kind of frustrating to try and teach kids who hang off of her every word. She wants them to  _ think _ and engage in real debate, come up with ways that they can apply the material to their own unique styles, to challenge what may or may not work for them. That’s hard to do when they’re either showing off with empty facts to try and impress her or completely content to chomp up everything she says without question. 

(Ungrateful as it may sound, she doesn’t want bedazzled groupies who idolize her. She wants students that she can build a good rapport with.)

“Oh well,” she sighs, starting to pack up as well. “Wanna grab our usual and head over to the quad?”

“Negative.” Fujin zips up her bag and slings it over her shoulder before marching off towards the exit. 

“What? Fujin, wait—” Quistis tries to hurry up but all of her things decide just at that fucking moment that they don’t want to go into her bag without a fight; she swears as she fumbles her water bottle and ungracefully nabs it from the floor before tossing it in and starts jogging toward the exit as she tugs on the stuttering zipper. “Fucking—” she stops herself just as she passes by some students. “Hold on!” 

Fujin stops at the door to hold it open for her, at least. Quistis catches up to her with a huff.

“What do you mean, negative?”

“No,” Fujin deadpans as she lets go of the door as soon as Quistis makes it through before taking off again down the sunny hallway. 

Quistis rolls her eyes as she falls into step beside the shorter woman. “Yeah, I got that part. I was asking  _ why.” _

“Stop training.” 

Quistis ends up half-jogging to keep up with the brisk pace. 

“But you agreed to teach me!”

“Unnecessary now,” she says nonchalantly as she turns the corner. “Learned well.” 

And suddenly there’s a thousand butterflies jammed into her throat. Gruffly encouraging comments on her form barked during practice are common enough, but other than that Quistis has never heard anything genuinely complimentary from Fujin. It whacks her right in her fluttery feelings because the taciturn girl never, ever says anything more or less than the plain truth— she’ll never tell any pleasant white lies or buff up partial facts for flattery. 

(Things that Quistis is sick of at this point in her life.)

She quickly blinks her astonishment away and rounds the corner into the main hall as well, spotting Fujin heading towards the dorms. She thinks about going after her— maybe to insist that they at least have their customary breakfast together at least— but the longer she stares at the woman storming away with tense shoulders, the flush of praise simmers into uncertainty. Fujin’s walking away the moment their business is concluded, without so much as a moment of pleasantries—

As she struggles with whether to go after Fujin or not, it occurs to her that just because  _ she _ enjoyed their time together every morning doesn’t mean that Fujin took it as anything more than training a colleague.

By the time Fujin disappears into the dorms, Quistis loses her nerve entirely.

—————

“So, in conclusion,” Quistis announces as she clicks to the next slide on the projector, leaning against the front of her desk. “Limit Breaks are extremely useful abilities unique to every individual; as you can imagine, it is essential for every SeeD agent to be thoroughly familiar with their own. Those of you who score above ninety on the written section exam will be allowed to attend a special training seminar in which Aura Stones will be used to perform preliminary demos. Does anyone have any questions before we move onto the quiz?”

She looks around the classroom expectantly. “Yes, Mr. Estheim?”

The boy lowers his hand and leans forward on his desk. “Is it true that your Limit Break is to use monster abilities?”

Quistis smiles; she doesn’t know what she was expecting from one of the more enthusiastic members of the former fan club. 

“Yes, it is.” A wave of excited whispers and a low “whoah” goes through the room. “Anything else?”

Hands shoot up.

“Mr. Kreiss?”

“Can you show us?”

“No.” She gives them all an exasperated but firm look when the class makes a mixed rumble of dismay. Looking around for a hand less likely to ask some variant of ‘please’ or ‘why not’, she points to the student sitting next to Estheim. “Yes, Ms. Farron?”

The bright-eyed girl smiles. “Can you tell us why it’s called Blue Magic?”

Quistis blinks several times. 

“I suppose I could. Blue magic is a term from an antiquated system of classifying magic that was widely used before RDI classification was enforced in the wake of the invention of para-magic. Prior to separating spells into the three categories of Restorative, Damaging, and Indirect, magic was defined by a number of subcategories named by color.” She crosses her arms. “Because Blue Magic, what we now consider monster abilities, is not normally harnessable magic, no modern magical term was coined for them. Naturally, as magical technology progressed, some users with monster-related Limit Breaks were discovered, and Blue Magic became the umbrella label. I believe I’m the fourth Blue ‘Mage’, as it were, since the rise of tech-aided magic use.” 

Seeing a few students typing furiously, she laughs wryly and shakes her head. “Rest assured, this is a bit of a tangent, and you will not be tested on this information.” Another, quieter murmur of displeasure rises and falls. “Though, I  _ am _ curious— this isn’t exactly common knowledge,” she says to the girl, smiling with her brows furrowed inquisitively. “How did you find out what my Limit Break is called?”

“We were talking about non-junctioned combat tactics in Ms. Shinatobe’s class,” she replies, “and the topic of Limit Break usage came up.”

Quistis wonders how in the world they would come around to talking about her in Fujin’s class. “You talked about mine, specifically?”

The girl nods. “She said yours is the most powerful she’d seen.”

Quistis just barely stops herself from choking on her breath; she slides on a pleasant, professional smile to cover the sudden burst of sunflowers in her stomach. As amazing as it feels to know that Fujin talks about her when she’s not there— that she exists enough in Fujin’s mind for her to do so— she’s lecturing and needs to keep it together.

“Did she?” she chuckles. “Well, that’s very kind of her. I wouldn’t quite say it’s the most powerful, though it is more versatile than most damage-heavy abilities.”

Estheim and Farron giggle together, as well as few other students. Quistis raises a brow.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” Estheim grins. “She said you’d be modest about it too.” 

Her nerves spike like icicles at the thought of Fujin, not only speaking of her positively to others,  but exhibiting such a familiarity with Quistis that she predicted her reaction, so casually in front of her class— Quistis can just picture it saying it off-handedly and somehow the nonchalance makes it even  _ more _ of a thrill—  

There’s a collective hush of giggling and pleased disbelief that covers the class and pulls Quistis back from her momentary meltdown. She rubs her shocked mouth shut and tries to strangle and squelch all the fluttery schoolgirl feelings that are trying to tug a goofy grin onto her face. She’s in  _ class, _ for the love of god, she needs to get a grip. 

She clears her throat. “Well, I think that’s enough about me,” she announces. “Any more questions before we start the quiz?”

Hands shoot up. Quistis sighs. 

“Any more questions  _ relevant  _ to the lecture material?”

Every hand goes down except for one. Quistis stares the student down for a couple of seconds, raising her brow, relenting with another beleaguered sigh when he doesn’t back down.

“Yes, Mr. Kreiss?”

“Is it true that you can degenerate a monster out of existence in one go?” He asks excitedly. 

The class laughs; Quistis herself lets out a wry sigh-snort with a small smile and shakes her head before clicking her screen remote.

“If everyone would please log into your quiz module, the session code is up on the screen. Good luck.”

There’s another small rustle of giggles at Kreiss’s expense as Quistis rounds her desk to sit at it, flipping her planner open to organize her schedule while the room fills with quiet typing. She goes to uncap her pen before stopping, staring at smooth dark wood and beautifully crafted gold trimming. It’s a gorgeous gift, and an immeasurably thoughtful one considering that fountain pens are novelty and luxury items in this day and age and not very easy to find. Quistis wonders why Fujin would go out of her way to get her this kind of a birthday gift and make time every morning to train her if she didn’t even… enjoy spending time with her. Quistis had— stupidly— thought that it was just… plain niceness. After all those weeks, she had thought they were friends, at the very least. 

Honestly, none of it makes sense. She’d ask Fujin about it if she had the nerve to, but for the past few days since they last spoke she’s mostly been using her workload as an excuse to not do anything about it. They’re both busy— it’s midterms, and she’s sure that Fujin is eyeballs deep in student evaluations too. 

She pulls out her phone beneath the desk and opens up her message thread with Fujin. It’s sparse, with a few messages just to confirm meeting times and places— Fujin’s just as taciturn over text as she is in person. 

_ [Are you free at all tomorrow?] _ She types out on a whim, not really expecting to get a reply. It’s really just to appease her own guilt and anxiety so that she can insist that she tried, at least; she presses send and sticks her phone back in her jacket pocket, tapping her computer back awake to review the next lecture segment. Halfway through typing in her password, her phone buzzes and she frowns. 

“Can’t be…” she mutters under her breath as she pulls it out.

It is.

_ [You shouldn’t be texting during a lecture.] _

Quistis raises her brows.

_ [How do you know if I’m lecturing or not?] _

The reply only takes a few seconds.  _ [You forget that Estheim and Farron are in my class. They don’t talk about much other than having their ten am Basics of Magic lecture with Instructor Trepe during breaks.] _

Quistis holds in a groan, pressing her eyes and lips closed harshly for a moment before blinking, sighing again, and typing out a response. 

_ [I really, really wish I’d nipped that bud when it first started. Me and my big head…] _

_ [It is what it is. I don’t blame them for admiring you, as obnoxious as they are.] _

Biting down a smile, she covers her mouth with one hand entirely to try and keep all the butterflies in.

_ [Aw. Is that a compliment?] _

_ [Take it as you will.] _

She can’t help the grin that breaks past her attempts to hold in a pleased laugh. 

_ [You’re deflecting.] _

_ [I don’t know what you’re talking about.] _

Definitely deflecting. God, Fujin can be just… so cute, sometimes, despite— or maybe because of— her formal demeanor. 

_ [To answer your original question, I’m not sure if I’ll be available tomorrow or not. Why do you ask?] _

Quistis lets it go for now. [ _ I was thinking about taking some of the kids out to the fire cavern for a mock field test, and I’m wondering if you’d be willing to fly us out. You still have your pilot’s license, right?] _

There’s a small pause before Fujin starts typing.

_ [I do. But there are designated pilots staffing the hangar bay as well. Why ask me?] _

She hesitates, thumb hovering over her keyboard, wondering how honest she can afford to be. Fujin is impossible to read— between the storming away the second training had finished to complimenting her and humoring her over text, she can’t tell if Fujin even likes her as a person or not, nevermind as a friend. 

_ [Maybe I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you. I kind of miss seeing you every day.] _

She breaks one of the fundamental rules of SeeD in that she doesn’t fucking think it through before she sends the message. It’s impulse, really, because she’s unsure of what to make of Fujin and she should be more careful but  _ goddammit _ if the grouchy, overly honest woman doesn’t make her feel safe to just… say what’s on her mind instead of overthinking everything she says down to individual syllable intonations. 

The read receipt pops up. Ten seconds pass without a typing bubble before Quistis jams her phone into her pocket and spreads her hands onto the desk, trying to breathe. 

Stupid, stupid,  _ stupid—  _ it’s just a message, it’s not the end of the world— but it’s embarrassing,  _ idiotic— _ she just needs to breathe, calm down. 

She glances quickly at the time. A minute overtime on the quiz— 

“I think that’s enough time to finish,” she says, quickly re-starting the lecture projection. “I’d like you all to press submit, please, and then we’ll go over the questions.” She waits until her monitor tells her all quizzes are submitted, and then stands up with her remote projector control, rounding her desk to lean against the other side while facing the students. “Alright. Let’s start with the first one: name and briefly describe the biological phenomenon behind Limit Breaks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry but im so in love with,,, the world of ff8 I guess?? like i know that objectively it isn't the most exciting, lore-wise, compared to some of the other final fantasies but idk im just a huge sucker for that 90's scifi/magic hybrid and i love digging into it to figure out the logistics of it...
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!! next chapter is coming next week, and there's emotional resolution i promise


	3. flannel and satin, my four walls transformed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fujin comes stumbling back, terribly hurt, and Quistis finally gets some answers.

_ The Branford Crisis Response, named after the scientist who first discovered it. The phenomenon  occurs when the usually dormant magical attunement system in the human body is activated in response to extreme physiological stress— usually pain, blood loss, or imminent organ failure… _

Quistis scribbles a few comments into her notebook to add to the marking interface of the quiz later. Despite the shift to digital over the past several years, she’s always found it a little bit more relaxing to write down her work before entering it into the system, even though it might take more time. The handwritten notes act sort of like an anchor, helping her feel more focused and less lost while navigating the mountains of student responses and spreadsheets— she supposes it’s a little old-fashioned, and twenty-two might be far too young to be justified in finding technology too complicated, but it works. 

Though, she will admit that it’s probably making her eyesight worse. She takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes as she feels a migraine starting to cinch at the back of her skull from the strain of working hours after sunset with only a small lamp and the glow of her computer. She checks the time on the corner of her monitor— 23:45. She’s been working for eight hours straight now. 

She groans and leans back in her chair, head thudding on the back of it. The truth is that she doesn’t even need to have these marked until next week. She’s just procrastinating from having to deal with her massive social blunder earlier in the day. 

For a few hours after the message went read and unresponded to, Quistis was able to convince herself that Fujin was just busy. She looked into it and found out that Fujin was out on a monster extermination job for the day, so it was entirely reasonable that she got caught up in work and couldn’t get back to her phone for a while. Then the afternoon dragged on into the evening, and Quistis started vibrating so hard from embarrassment that she had to drown herself in enough mental process to forget her own existence as an awful, awkward, cringe-worthy goblin of a human being. 

At least she’s starting to feel a little more anger than self-loathing at this point, which is some emotional relief. Her message wasn’t  _ entirely _ unreasonable or forward, considering everything. Like, who— who does Fujin think she is, anyway, yanking Quistis around like this? Acting familiar and cute one moment and then just— just leaving her completely hanging as if she never cared the next? 

The training sessions  _ weren’t _ Quistis just assuming over-familiarity on her own. They  _ weren’t, _ not with the smiles and the quiet breakfasts that they shared after while they talked about nothing, or just sat together in the kind of silence no one else could ever offer them— Fujin enjoyed it at least a little bit, and if she didn’t then it was enough that Quistis was completely valid in assuming that she might have. Her attempts at friendliness aren’t unwarranted. She’s  _ not _ just a clingy and delusional and unwanted intruder in Fujin’s life. She’s not.

The more she tries to insist to herself, the more it just sounds like a childish rant. She sighs, leaning forward, and buries her face in her hands. She hates this. Genius though people might have called her, she’s never been able to reliably trust her own intuition on where she stands with people. How other people viewed her. If she was being a complete nutcase or not. 

To be honest, it doesn’t really matter anyway. She’s a fucking adult. If someone doesn’t want to be part of her life, then she packs up and moves on with her life— it’s really,  _ really _ not the end of the world. It is by  _ no means _ a big deal. Fujin can make her own choices in life, and so can she, and she really shouldn’t be so hung up on it just because Fujin looks like she was painted to a perfect design, not born with all the mortal flaws that come with—

Her door slams with three forceful knocks and she nearly knocks her coffee cup over. She swivels in her chair, wincing as she hears another three bangs that are more punches than knocks— who the fuck is coming to her room at fucking fifteen to midnight and trying to break her door down? 

(If it’s Squall again, wasted and simpering for comfort after a fight with Rinoa, then she’s going to punt him into the main hall fountain.)

_ Slam-slam-slam—  _

“I hear you!” She hisses as she presses the panel to open the door. “What the f—”

She chokes on her own tongue when the door swishes open. Leaning heavily against her doorframe and looking a lot worse for wear isn’t Squall Leonhart, but Fujin herself— she looks even paler than usual, her hair is disheveled, her uniform jacket is missing entirely and her shirt is riddled with tears that look like claw slashes—

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding—” she reaches out to Fujin, trying to help her stand upright and gently pulling her past the apartment threshold. “What happened to you?”

“Fine,” Fujin groans weakly, letting herself be tugged far enough into the room that the door automatically slides shut behind her. “Minor mishap.”

Quistis carefully tugs at one of the torn flaps of her shirt to assess the damage. A gallon of anxiety bubbles and fizzes unpleasantly in her stomach when her hand comes away absolutely smeared in blood. 

“You call this  _ minor?” _ she demands, sounding a little shriller than she wants to as she hooks an arm under Fujin’s and starts to lead her towards her desk chair. 

“Not dying,” Fujin protests as Quistis sits her down, weakly pushing against the arms of the chair. “Unnecessary.”

“If that’s your cutoff for minor and major injuries, then you really need to re-evaluate your standards,” Quistis says as she gently shoves Fujin down into sitting properly. “Stop being difficult and sit still. Ugh, god,” she breathes as she examines the biggest gash. It runs from the back of Fujin’s left side to the front, a nasty wound slashed across the ribs. “That looks really bad. Why didn’t you go to the infirmary?”

“Urgent task.”

“Well, whatever the hell it is, it can wait until I get you patched up,” she growls, heading towards her bedroom. “If you’re not still in that chair when I get back, I’m going to kill you.”

“Counter-productive,” she hears Fujin call out as she touches her bedroom panel to open the door. 

_ “Counter-productive,”  _ she mocks under her breath as she bends down to grab the box underneath her bed and the small trash can she keeps by her nightstand. “Smartass.”

Fujin’s still in her office chair when she gets back, thankfully, seated in her usual prim posture that’s only just slightly off-kilter, looking over at Quistis in a calm and expectant way that briefly reminds her of a curious cat. 

Quistis reminds herself that it’s not cute, it’s infuriating. She’s angry right now. 

She goes to kneel by Fujin’s left side, putting the first aid kit and the bin on the floor as she folds the chair arm up and out of the way. She pulls some disinfectant from the box and it’s all well and good until she goes to apply it and realizes Fujin’s shirt is in the way.

“I need you to take your shirt off for me,” she says in an impressively even tone. Fujin complies, careful not to strain her wounds. It’s a bit too slow for Quistis’s nerves but she can’t exactly tell her to hurry up, nor does she have the capacity to help her take it off so she just kind of… sits there. 

She looks down and starts opening the disinfectant bottle when Fujin finally peels the shirt off completely, leaving her in just her trousers and a utilitarian sports bra. Bleeding wounds, Quistis tells herself, no time to be awkward. 

She holds one hand against Fujin’s stomach, trying to ignore the feeling of solid abs as she wipes some of the blood away with a cloth before pouring some of the disinfectant onto a cotton ball.

“This is gonna sting a little.”

Fujin grunts in acknowledgement, hardly even wincing when Quistis starts dabbing at the gash, trying to be thorough without dragging it on unnecessarily. 

“Dammit,” she mutters when the cotton ball gets covered in blood only halfway through. “I’m going to have to do a second application. Sorry.”

Fujin just shakes her head impassively, hugging herself a little crookedly to keep her arm out of the way. Quistis glances up at her a few times as she works, wondering why she’s being far more compliant than Quistis expected her to be. She’s usually… extraordinarily antsy about being treated.

“You didn’t even use a Cure on this, did you?” Quistis asks, tossing the second bloody cotton ball into the bin. “You had to have a GF junctioned, why didn’t you even try to use a bit of magic?”

“Waste.”

Quistis scoffs as she tears the wrapper away from the roll of gauze. “I know SeeD regulations tell you to be mindful of spell usage, but I think we could spare  _ one _ Cure to keep you from bleeding out on the way back.”

Fujin sighs. “Minor wound. Overdramatic.”

“You’re calling  _ me _ overdramatic?” she asks, raising her brows incredulously though she doesn’t look away from her hands carefully applying the gauze. “Why don’t you tell me what was so goddamn urgent that you couldn’t let it wait until the morning  _ after _ you’d gone to the infirmary?”

She opens the roll of medical tape as well. Fujin starts reaching for her right side pants pocket as Quistis applies the first piece, pulling out what looks like a broken jumble of metal and mechanical parts at first. 

“What is that?” she says with a frown. 

“Phone.” Fujin opens her hand a bit more and true to her word, it’s a smashed up smartphone. “Ambushed. Unable to reply. Apologies.”

Quistis stops and stares, hands frozen mid-application, as she tries to process the information.

“You came here, first thing, despite being hurt,” she says, weighing each word like heavy stones. “To tell me that you couldn’t text me back because your phone got destroyed by a monster.” 

Fujin squirms just the slightest bit.

“Affirmative.”

Quistis pulls back her hands and rests them on her thighs, sitting back on her haunches. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Fujin tenses immediately, taking in a sharp breath. 

“Apologies,” she says tersely, pushing out of her seat and Quistis snaps up to grab her arm and pull her back down.

“No— fucking— sit down, I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, holding Fujin’s arm tightly even as the wounded woman lowers herself back into her seat. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. That was really bad. That was a really terrible thing to say, I’m sorry,” Quistis says with a steady rhythm, one hand held over her glasses as she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to gather her thoughts. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Fujin’s arm is impossibly tense under her hand. Quistis sighs and looks up at her, stomach twisting at how  _ tightly _ she’s clenching her jaw, tendons on her neck standing prominently.

“You are just— so confusing, you know that?”

Fujin scowls and looks away. “Aware.”

Quistis shakes her head. “No, I didn’t mean— I wasn’t talking about the way you speak. You’re actually extraordinarily easy to understand if I pay attention. I meant…” God, why is this so hard? “When you gave me my birthday present, I was really happy,” she admits quietly. “I was really enjoying getting to… getting to know you again, after everything that happened, and it really… it really made me feel like you liked hanging out with me, too. Then just…” 

Fujin’s arm softens, and Quistis lets go to lay her hand on Fujin’s thigh instead. 

“The other day, you ran off without so much as saying goodbye as soon as you were done training me. You just stopped spending time with me the second you didn’t have to. I figured you never really liked being around me in the first place.”

Quistis shakes her head.

“But then, when I’m half-convinced that you hate me, you pull something like this. Running to my apartment first thing after getting back to Garden at midnight with a bad gash, just because it was  _ so important _ for you to reassure me as soon as possible that you weren’t ignoring me.” She shakes her head and pulls her hands into her own lap. “It is so… sweet and considerate and I just don’t get it.”

She looks up at Fujin with a helpless frown. Fujin breathes in deeply, her chest rising and falling slowly. 

“Not hate, just…” She grimaces and rubs her eye with the heel of her palm. “Didn’t think…”

She grunts in frustration, hands fisting at the fabric of her pants as she tucks her chin to her chest and takes long, harsh breaths. Quistis reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone, unlocking it and opening up her memo app.

“Here,” she says, offering it to Fujin. “Would this help?”

She nods almost meekly, looking a little defeated as she takes the phone and starts typing. Quistis looks at her drooping shoulders, wanting to kiss them softly, reassuringly, speaking back to Fujin in her idiosyncratic and wordless language that everything would be alright. 

Fujin hands her the phone before leaning forward with her elbows on her thighs and her head in her hands. 

_ I didn’t walk away because I didn’t want to see you, but because I didn’t want to inconvenience you any further. I assumed you wouldn’t want to have to spend time with me beyond what was necessary. I never meant to give you the impression that I feel negatively about you, and I’m sorry that I did. _

Quistis lets the words sink in before laying the phone beside Fujin on the chair, face-up and slightly leaning on her leg. 

“You thought  _ I  _ didn’t like you?” she asks softly as she takes the roll of medical tape and picks up where she left off. 

Fujin nods. 

Quistis lets out a short, quiet laugh as she presses the tape onto pale skin. “Why in the world would I dislike you?”

She scoffs. “Why not? Crude, discourteous, unsophisticated,” she starts listing off with ease. “Attempted to kill you.”

Quistis laughs as she finishes up and starts on a less serious cut just underneath. “If you’re talking about what happened four years ago, I don’t think it would be right to hold that against you. You were only sixteen,” she murmurs, feeling a bit of wistful regret on Fujin’s behalf. “You were just a kid who wanted to be there for a friend who’d lost his way.” She shakes her head slightly. “There are far worse reasons to make mistakes than compassion.”

Fujin snorts. “More than mistake. War crime.”

“Well,” Quistis sighs. “You did your time. You spent three years in Balamb City making up for two weeks of occupation. I think it’s safe to say you can put it behind you.” 

She says nothing, still staring at her lap, and Quistis can tell she doesn’t believe her. 

“You know,” she says, not looking up from her work. “I feel like I should almost be flattered you think I’m such a good actor. I wasn’t exactly unenthusiastic about spending time with you.”

Fujin coughs and looks away. “Assumed… politeness.”

Quistis laughs, glancing up at her as she stick another piece of tape on. “Is grabbing you into a bear hug and kissing you on the cheek what you call being polite?”

“I—” Fujin clears her throat and Quistis is sure that she’d be able to see a blush if not for the low lighting of her apartment. “Well…”

There’s no answer for many moments while Quistis focuses on delicately wiping down another gash. Glancing up to see Fujin still staring at the floor like she’s parsing through her recollections for a rebuttal, Quistis takes in a deep breath and steels her nerves.

“The training sessions we had made me happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

Fujin frowns, looking at her with an almost-glare. Quistis laughs.

“I’m not lying to make you feel better, I swear,” she says, reaching into the box to open another packet of gauze. “I was… pretty lonely before you showed up. I mean, I’ve been lonely for most of my life because of the whole ‘prodigy’ schtick, but…” she sighs. 

“During the war, when I reconnected with the kids from my old orphanage, that was the first time I really felt like I had friends. I was so sure things would change, going forward. That I wouldn’t feel so alone anymore. And I didn’t,” she clarifies, trying to sound at least a little bit upbeat. “It was really good for a while. I felt like I had a family for the first time since being adopted. But over time, everyone just… moved on to other things.” She puts down the medical tape and inches back a little bit, tugging on the seat of the chair. “Here, spin to the other side for me.”

Fujin does so, and Quistis pushes the chair arm on this side out of the way as well as she assesses the damage. 

“Selphie went off to help rebuild Trabia, and Irvine of course goes wherever she goes. Zell quit and got a job in his hometown teaching martial arts to kids. I guess Squall and Rinoa are still here, but…” Quistis puffs out an exasperated breath as she dabs at a smaller cut. “If they’re not overworking themselves, they’re spending time with each other. And I don’t blame them, it’s hard to keep up a relationship when they’re as busy as they are, but… the only time I really ever see them is on duty or when they have a fight and want to complain about the other to me. It gets kind of old,” she chuckles as she caps the disinfectant bottle again. “I mean, I’m not upset at them, or anything. Of course they were going to go on different paths in their lives as they grew up. It’s not their fault that I’m a tryhard who peaked and plateaued at seventeen. I guess it’s just hard not to feel left behind.” She laughs again because she doesn’t like how bitter she ended up sounding.

“Then you showed up, out of nowhere,” she says with a smile, putting a smaller adhesive bandage on a small cluster of shallow cuts. “And honestly, I kind of hated you for a little bit. There you were, all cleaned up and moving up in the world, while I was still in the same place I was four years ago. You looked so different; healthier, happier, more well-adjusted and I was just so  _ mad  _ that you of all people were doing better than me. What a bratty attitude to have, right?” She grins up at Fujin. “You really took my superiority complex and smacked me in the face with it.”

Fujin furrows her brows, looking unsure. “Ah… apologies.”

“Why are you apologizing?  _ I _ should be apologizing. I was such an asshole,” she says, trying not to sound wistful or pathetic. “It’s kind of funny, isn’t it? We’ve known each other for ten years but I didn’t really…  _ know _ you until recently. I didn’t care to, because I never grew out of being an awful and jealous kid.” She shakes her head. “I’m really grateful to have met you again.”

When she looks up, Fujin is grimacing with that wariness again, hackles raised like she’s waiting to be mocked. Quistis presses on, yearning for Fujin to understand.

“You’re so honest. You don’t try to be anything more or less than yourself, and I… I was jealous. I  _ am  _ jealous. I spend so much time worrying about what people think about me, so much that it stops me from actually doing anything for myself and… I wanted to be more like you. No,” she shakes her head, “No, actually, I… watching you be yourself so unapologetically made me want to be more like  _ me.”  _ She gnaws on her lower lip. “You made me feel more like myself just by being the person you are and I just…” she pauses, trying to gather her words. “I just really liked spending time with you. My favourite part of the day was when we had breakfast together on the quad after training.”

Pressing on the last bandage, she sits back and gathers all the discarded plastic wrapping to chuck into the bin. She sees Fujin touch her bandages lightly out of the corner of her eye as she goes about cleaning up.

“I’m…” she starts quietly as she packs the first aid kit back together. “I’m actually quite fond of you,” she confesses, closing the box.

She waits a few seconds for a response before hastily picking up the box and trash can, making to push to her feet and return them to her bedroom; a hand grabs her wrist and she looks to see Fujin out of her seat, other hand holding one of her sides and red eye looking at Quistis so… so  _ softly.  _

“Wait, I…” Fujin grimaces, eye flitting over Quistis’s face, mouth opening and closing with hastily grabbed and discarded words, stuttering breaths catching quietly in her throat. 

(Sometimes, it is so strange seeing Fujin struggle for words. For all her difficulties with speech, she’s just such an articulate person, in person or over text— she speaks with a kind of staccato eloquence that Quistis has been learning to love.)

Quistis places the box and bin on her desk and dares to reach out and tuck a bit of grey hair behind Fujin’s ear, feeling something bloom in her chest when Fujin closes her eye and leans into her hand— and, oh, Fujin doesn’t need to say anything. The way that she moves, the way that she  _ lives,  _ is just so… expressive, ardent,  _ vivid;  _ when words fail to live up to her sheer vibrance of being, she finds another way that never fails to make Quistis’s heart glow.

Is it normal to feel so strongly about someone after only a few weeks? She wonders as she lets her hand fall to Fujin’s shoulder, running a thumb lightly over her clavicle. 

“Why don’t you get some sleep,” she says, smoothing her palm down Fujin’s arm, “and if you’re feeling up to it tomorrow, we could go into the city to get you a new phone?”

_ We could talk then, _ she doesn’t say. 

Fujin catches her hand at the last second before she lets it fall away and holds it; the way her fingers fold around Quistis’s palm is a little hesitant, but softly insistent nonetheless.

“Would like that,” she whispers, squeezing her hand lightly. 

Quistis sighs, and brings up her other hand up to tilt Fujin’s face up lightly. She leans in to press a kiss on Fujin’s cheek, not bothering to question the sudden, quiet boldness born in the night air between frail confessions. 

When she pulls away, she sees Fujin’s cheeks bloom into the prettiest pink, even in the low light, flush laid bare by pale skin. Fujin yanks her hand away with a scowl when Quistis laughs, still blushing while she gruffly picks up her shirt. 

“Mocking me,” she grouses, trying to arrange her shirt the right way up.

“Just a little,” Quistis admits. “Only because you’re so cute.”

Fujin chokes, nearly ripping her shirt in half. Quistis claps a hand over her mouth to stifle another laugh, furrowing her brows apologetically when Fujin glares. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she chuckles, “I’ll stop being a pain in the ass. Can I lend you a shirt?” she asks with a smile-grimace. “I think that one’s a little… unsalvageable.”

Fujin takes another look at the slashed up, blood-stained scrap of fabric before sighing. 

“Please,” she grumbles, rolling up the former shirt into a ball. Quistis smiles and grabs the first aid box and trash can before she depositing them into her bedroom and turning to her closet for a suitable replacement. She settles on a blue and white baseball shirt, returning to hand it over. 

“Thank you,” Fujin mumbles as she finishes pulling it on. “Return soon.”

“Actually,” Quistis says, “why don’t you keep that? It looks better on you.”

The almost-faded blush resurges, and Fujin crosses her arms as she scowls even harder than before.

“Mocking again.”

Quistis smiles a bit, then frowns as she takes in Fujin’s defensive stance— rigid shoulders, furrowed brow, a muted but real annoyance— and she shakes her head. “Do you really think I’m mocking you?”

Fujin’s scowl crumples a little deeper, dipping a bit into confusion.“What else?”

“I’m teasing a little, but I’m still genuinely being complimentary,” Quistis says. “You really are quite good-looking. You know that, right?”

She didn’t, from what Quistis can tell from how her eye widens and she sort of scrunches her shoulders to herself as she looks away. 

“I…” she coughs. “Goodnight.”

Quistis just laughs again when Fujin flees, smacking into the doorframe on her way out— she listens to heavy boots stomping off quickly down the hall and thinks that her crush is probably growing into something else entirely. 

What a night. 

——

(Later, when she’s slipping into bed with her work cleared away and the tangled iron knot lifted off her chest, her phone pings with a new message from Fujin.

_ I’m sorry. With my life having been the way that it has, I’ve realized that I have difficulty believing that it’s possible for someone to see me in a positive light. It’s childish, and I’ve been working to unlearn it in the past while. I’m sorry that I’ve been so difficult. I’m still trying. Thank you for being so patient with me. _

_ And thank you for taking the time articulate how you felt— for trusting me enough to tell me so much. I don’t entirely believe I’ve earned that trust, but I’m grateful for it. I’m sorry that I’ve made things so unnecessarily confusing for you. I know that I’ll be far from perfect in rectifying my behaviour, so I wanted to tell you, in no uncertain terms, that I’m…  _

_ I’m very fond of you, as well.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how i got to terribly wrapped up in this pairing and made it so important to be as sort of a storyline of... healing, growing, learning to accept that your actions have consequences and that you are capable of being loved. Anyway, that's it for now! I've got a little bit of a sequel planned from Fujin's perspective, but I'm not sure how much time I'll have to actually pursue writing it. thanks for reading, guys!

**Author's Note:**

> eight years ago i read the same fanfic that probably you only other two quifuu shippers have also read- Frozen, the super-long fic that was.. honestly a HOT MESS in terms of formatting and writing quality but still somehow so delightful?? I don't know how to describe it... there was a lot of bad tropes used and not a little internalized misogyny there, but it was just. There was just something about it that was so magical. There was a life to the plot-- a lot of it was just so original, so creative, and there was a certain spark to the dialogue that single-handedly made me fall in love with this pairing. 
> 
> I sincerely hope the author is still out there somewhere, writing, because everything wrong with that fic was something that could be fixed with some training, and everything good about it? god, it had every spark of writing that can't be taught. I hope my writing brings that kind of life to characters, leaves people feeling that in love with them too.
> 
> anyway, the next two chapters of this fic are already written, but I'm releasing them in weekly updates-- if you'd like to see them now, though, feel free to come check me out at @wtfoctagon on twitter or wtfoctagon.tumblr.com !! you can even see my WIPs early and vote on which ones I finish first!


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